


Posthumanity

by Corycides



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 20:02:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding a sword-master in Philadelphia isn't easy - or maybe you aren't looking in the right place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Posthumanity

Miles gawped at the skinny blonde woman like some sort of idiot. Until today he'd not realised he'd not seen any disabled people since the lights went on. She rocked on her scuffed, back-curved prosthetics and raised sandy brows at him. 'Something wrong?'

He went hot and coughed out 'no' between tight lips, slanting a black glare towards a smirking Bass.

'I wasn't...um.' He licked his lips and tried again. 'No-one said you were a-'

'Amputee,' she said.

'Yeah.'

She nodded. 'I am.'

'Uh huh.' He scrubbed his hand through his short hair, making it stand on end. He was going to kill Bass for this. Yeah, he probably had a stupid look on this face, but this poor kid -. 'Look, Carrie, I'm sorry. I don't think this is a good idea. We need someone who knows what they are doing. A professional. Not...'

'An amputee,' she finished for him. Again.

What the hell. Political correctness had probably gone out with the lights. 'Yeah,' he said, shrugging. 'Sorry. I'm sure you're great, but-'

She walked over to her coat and pulled out two slim blades, tossing one to Miles. He caught it out of the air and twisted it dubiously. It was like a whip with a handle.

'Epées,' she said. 'Not what you'll be wanting, from what Sergeant Monroe said, but I thought you might need a demo.'

Bass was still grinning. He leaned against the window, hips caught on the ledge, and crossed his arms. The woman flicked her sword and cocked her head expectantly. Miles scowled. 'I don't want to hurt you.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Whatever,' she said and crooked her finger at him. 'Bring it.'

Fine. Great, he was going to have to knock a disabled chick on her ass. Get this over with. He gripped the hilt of the foil and whipped it about in the air. It made a rather satisfactory zippy noise, but it wasn't exactly what he pictured when he thought about 'pirates'.

He stamped forwards and jabbed the sword at her stomach. She pivoted and did some...fancy, twirly thing with her foil. The button tip thumped him on the forehead.

'Dead.'

'Again.'

This time she got him just over the liver.

Half an hour later he was sweating like a pig and had bruises on his ass. She was still on her feet, eyes bright like she was enjoying herself. There was a welt on her cheek and blood dribbling between split knuckles, which was some sop to his pride. He sat down on the floor with a grunt and swabbed sweat off his face with the tail of his shirt.

'So what, you some sorta cyborg?' he asked.

Her mouth quirked as she leant back against the wall, shifting her weight uncomfortably. 

'I'm just really fucking good,' she said. Then looked slightly less smug as she admitted. 'And you were trying to fight to my rules when you should have been cheating, but I can teach you that too.'

Miles cracked his neck and rubbed his ribs. 'Those épées won't do it.'

'Sabres,' she said. 

'You can train us to use them?'

She sucked the blood off her knuckles and looked thoughtful. 'I can teach the basics, whether they get beyond “poke the other guy with the pointy end' is down to talent and application.'

Miles glanced at Bass and raised his eyebrows. The slight nod he got back decided him. 'You want to be the militia's sword-master, Carrie?'

'Yes,' she said, teeth clipping the ends of the words. Her confidence had fooled him, but he'd been at least a bit right the first time. She wanted this badly. 'You won't regret this.'

Miles grunted and scrambled back to his feet. 'You gonna stop hitting me?'

She pursed her lips. 'Not for a while.'

'Then I'm going to regret it.'


End file.
